


The Mojave: Part IV

by RieWiggles



Series: Stories of the Wastelanders: MacCready Arc [5]
Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4, Fallout New Vegas, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Benny's Bastard Son, Caesar's Legion, Commonwealth Minutemen, F/M, Legion Remnants, Minutemen, NCR, New California Republic, The Commonwealth Minutemen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-21 06:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12451539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RieWiggles/pseuds/RieWiggles
Summary: In 2296, Nate sends his most trusted Minutemen to the Mojave Wasteland to negotiate an alliance with the New California Republic. As Quinn and MacCready schmooze with the leading returned recon sniper Craig Boone and his pupil Eudinae Harlow, the NCR is at war with the newly regrouped Caesar's Legion, now known as Legion Remnants. Also unknown to the NCR, it is run by Breno, Benny's bastard son. As he takes a liking to Julia Thompson, who had just turned 18, the NCR is at a rocky foundation, resulting to the questioning of leadership of its current president.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

The evening sky painted the world orange. Quinn played an acoustic tune in her head, subtle, mild. It was fitting for the small date she and her husband had. After all, they earned their break after their job.

Quinn and MacCready walked along the railroad tracks, laughing, muttering silly things as they balanced themselves while walking the rails. Their hands held to keep each other from falling. Quinn had a joint in her left hand. After she huffed, she passed it to her husband, who did the same.

“I’m telling you, Robbie, this fucking job, right?”

“You feel that adrenaline rush, too?”

“I always do after a job.”

The mercenary chuckled. Afterwards, he stated, “I guess you might have some mercenary blood in you after all.” His wife smiled. Her freckles glistened in the sunset. Her hazel eyes locked to his blue irises. The world looked perfect. He chuckled as she lost her balance.

The Commonwealth was slowly becoming even safer, perhaps surpassing The Capital Wasteland. Roads were guarded. Caravan casualties landed at almost minimal, resulting to excess trades and a boom in settlements. The Commonwealth felt like a better place. With the boom of business, there was definitely some work cut out for mercenaries.

They soon decided it was time to head home after the last inch of sun was out of view. Once passing the gates of Sanctuary, the build of the settlement was at its most beautiful. The street lights began to turn on as the sun went to sleep. Albeit high, the duo was able to think straight enough to make it home without tripping.

Quinn threw her bags to the floor. MacCready proceeded to place his gun next to the door. Despite the home was newly built four years prior, it still had rusty appliances, which raised Quinn’s hopes to spruce up sometime. For the time being, however, she just turned the stove on to cook whatever was in the fridge. After pulling out stag, she placed the venison on a newly cleaned cutting board.

“Steak or vittles?” Quinn shouted.

“Should you really be cooking?”

“I’m hungry. You want to cook?”

The mercenary laughed. He slumped back in the couch. It was the same one from The Third Rail that Quinn pulled and repainted years prior. Quinn looked to her husband. She began to crack up.

“Are you really stoned off your ass?”

“My ass is in this comfy couch,” the mercenary lightly replied.

In 2289, Mutkush made a comeback in the Commonwealth. In addition, it was so widely popular that even Curie studied its effects, and made breakthroughs with Rad-X and Radaway using cannabis. On the other end of science were those who used marijuana as the alternative to tell the world to “go fuck itself.”

Quinn was one of those people.

If she hadn’t met her husband, Quinn would have probably still been stuck in The Brothel, pleasing men against her will. In 2288, after the destruction of The Institute, a lovely mercenary helped her get her life together. Although she lost her parents, she gained a husband and step-son. Being the wife of a mercenary prompted her to follow the mercenary life. It was all she knew at that point. She was taught by the finest after all.

As for Duncan, the beloved son, the hormone monster was beginning to sprout inside the kid. He was twelve years old, cocky-mouthed, just like his father. It was questioned if it was a family thing, considering the boy took no shit from people, put people in their place, or perhaps even the grave. As small as the kid was, he had a name. Never mess with Duncan MacCready.

* * *

 

Julia was finally eighteen years old. She was finally an adult. After the rigorous training that she endured, she was ready to take the world on, then without the patronizing.

In 2293, Nate had come to Listening Post Bravo with an invitation. He requested Danse to move to Sanctuary. The life of isolation was soon over, and suburban living was finally in play. It was odd, living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but in a comfortable, newly built home. Danse made sure to remind Julia to not get comfortable herself, as it may have weakened her. She grew up with training equivalent to any Brotherhood soldier, but after a long day of surviving, was ended with being treated like a daughter.

Danse decided for Julia’s birthday that it was best to go easy on her. He surprised her with what he knew: a surprise hunt, and in the meantime, to spruce the place to remind her of her childhood. Julia grew up in The Institute with her scientist parents, and her loving twin sister. To remind the girl of those days would make her fondness for them grow. Perhaps she would have loved it.

However, when Julia walked through the door, she was visibly upset to see accents that brought her back to those days. They were too good for her. After the destruction of the Institute, after her family’s deaths, the story book that he found for her was too painful to bear. The rest of the day was her silent treatment, and constant apologies from the synth. After she calmed down, she soon understood his motive. He had good intentions, and he loved her as if she was his real daughter. He just wanted her to be happy.

Julia reminded him that the only thing that made her happy was him. She wanted him to be her father. She wanted him to keep teaching her what he knew.

* * *

 

Julia woke up to a knock on the door. Being that her room was closest, she had no choice. With her gun equipped, she shouted, “Who is it?” Upon looking at the peephole, the most important figure of the Commonwealth had Julia quickly unlocking all the padlocks and safety locks installed onto the door.

“General!” she shouted.

“Again, call me Nate!”

“Sorry!” Julia replied, as he walked inside. Nate inspected the nice, clean home before asking for her father.

“I believe he’s still in bed,” Julia replied.

He wasn’t convinced to let the synth continue his slumber. After a small knock at the bedroom door, Danse obliged.

“Sir! If I may ask, why are you up so early?”

Nate took a look to the side. He slid his tongue in between his top and bottom molars. His expression seemed tense. Even his pose was tense.

“I need you to meet me at my home. We have important business to discuss.”

Nate then turned around to leave. The young woman remained confused. She turned to her synth father. He shrugged, before closing the bedroom door.

* * *

 

The living room of the restored-yet-unstable home was filled with people of all sorts of personality. At least, that would be how Nick Valentine, synth detective extraordinaire, would describe it. Lounged on the couch was Quinn, the stoned Ginger whose husband had his arms crossed and possibly sick from bad venison. Duncan remained in between, his attitude tense. He heard the growls coming from his father’s stomach.

“Dad, you might want to-“

“I’ll be fine.”

Duncan wasn’t concerned for his father’s sake. He was concerned for his. The last the kid needed was the spray of spoiled venison and other fluids splattered onto him.

On the other side of the room, propped against the window, was, as mentioned, Nick Valentine. His cigarette emitted an ash-y aroma in the premises. It caught the attention of all the occupants.

Located in the kitchen area was Preston Garvey, Nate’s second-in-command. He wasn’t happy with the comments that the stoned ginger was making, as she made conversation with the woman in front of her, who was Ronnie Shaw. The Quartermaster laughed when Quinn made a joke regarding “I suppose the counter needs your help! I’ll mark it on your map!”

Preston was deeply offended.

Danse and Julia made it less than the time requested, just entering the door. They had an idea that a mission was in play, so they packed their gear.

Nate entered the room. His actions were slow, relaxed. That was just how he was. The Minutemen respected his compassion and relaxed mannerisms.

He circled around the room, meeting eye contact with everyone in there. He then took a seat on the arm chair located at the corner, nearing the fireplace. He crossed his legs, although loosely. When he opened his mouth, Julia instantly straightened.

“I’ve brought you all here today because you’re all my most trusted and most talented men and women.”

Quinn raised her thumb up. Otherwise, everyone was quiet.

Nate got up from his seat, and rubbed his temples.

“I received some words from a faction called The New California Republic. They’ve heard rumors about us. I need my best people to go make an impression.”

“You mean to negotiate an alliance?” Preston corrected.

“Exactly. I’ve got my hands tied here, and with you being my second-in-command, that’s all that I ask.”

Everyone looked at each other, in a very confused expression, before looking back at Nate.

“You mean the Mojave Wasteland?” MacCready suddenly asked, his posture still odd from being ill.

The general nodded. His movements were still relaxed. Julia imagined if the man would end up changing from “general” to “president.”

When he went back to his seat, he then responded, "The NCR is having issues with a group of people called The Legion Remnants. They were of whoever was left of Caesar's Legion. If anyone isn't familiar with them or the business in the Mojave, just ask Preston."

* * *

 

While the trustees packed their belongings, Ronnie made a seat at the desk in the basement of the Castle. She sighed to herself. Her fingers trailed to the keyboard of the terminal, typing rigorously, constantly. Her words raced in her mind as they came to life in the program. She let out a shaky sigh.

_She muttered words that no one but only she, herself, could understand._

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

The morning dew sprayed into Quinn’s freckled face. She wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the long trip. On the other hand, MacCready was interested to see The Strip. He’s heard of stories about Courier Six. He’s heard of the Mojave. He wasn’t a fan of hot weather, but the trip was very well anticipated.

When the family of three met with Preston, Julia and Danse were also present. Although Danse and MacCready never got along, they at least respected each other’s skills. The mercenary and synth nodded to each other. Julia never engaged into the life of Nate’s best mercenaries. She never thought about them. When she finally looked at Quinn for the first time, seeing her tired, stoned eyes, Julia became curious to know what was in the mind of the curly-haired ginger.

Quinn adjusted her long ripped tank. The young woman grew curious of the ginger’s Illuminati logo, evidenced by her shirt. When she turned to MacCready, Julia instantly questioned his choice of apparel. The mercenary donned a tank, camouflage cargo pants, and a particular necklace made from animal teeth. She was curious of what teeth belonged to which animals. When the girl turned to the son of the duo, she caught that he was looking at her. She had also never engaged in a conversation with Duncan MacCready, but acknowledged his existence. The boy definitely took after his Dad. He had the same smug grin, the same crystal blue eyes, the same mannerisms. The boy was cocky. He wasn’t obnoxious, as he mostly kept to himself, but Duncan wasn’t exactly known around the parts as being the modest of the bunch. In fact, he was the least humbled.

Danse stared at the newly-inked tattoo that was embedded into the mercenary’s skin. It gave a Western vibe. It wasn’t surprising that it painted MacCready: it was a bloodied hawk, wrapped in the strap of a sniper rifle, complete with accents of caps. It certainly didn’t match his wife’s tattoos, which were on the sweeter, vintage side of lace and roses, including a fox and butterfly on her right forearm, but nonetheless, it was easy to distinguish that the two were a team. If there was a family that definitey stood out, it was the MacCready family.

At the border of The Commonwealth, they were met by NCR troops. The uniforms interested everyone. While it was no rumor that the Mojave was “hot as balls,” as mentioned by some, the soldiers were still donned in very warm gear. Nuclear Winter was an oxymoron at that point.

It was the first time in years that Duncan had been in an APC. He was fascinated by the fact that after over two hundred years, there were still running cars. The back was hot, compressed. All the Minutemen were transported car from car, with the main cast huddled into one car. Duncan took a look at Julia. He was curious as to who she was. Due to the animosity between the mercenaries and synth, their families didn’t know much about each other.

Danse looked to Quinn. She was disinterested to look back. Instead, she pulled a joint from her pockets, before taking her husband’s matches. After lighting the grass, the smell spread throughout the whole truck, causing the rest of the occupants to feel the effects. “You sure love that stuff, don’t you?” Nick commented.

Pit stops were made every few hours. It was painfully long. When night hit, the travelers made camp. The trip lasted too long to everyone’s liking. Upon reaching the strip, Duncan and Julia paid close attention to the actions and agility of the soldiers. They quickly got to work, allowing the trucks to make their way inside the Strip. After passing the gates, all the Minutemen became mesmerized over the sight. Lights of all colors illuminated the night sky. People made room out of the road for the trucks to follow through. When reaching their destination, all the humans and synths of the bunch stretched their joints upon leaving the back. After gaining a good look of the New Vegas Strip, the world from back home was in the back of their minds. The “enlightenment” was overwhelming. It was nothing like they’ve all seen before.

* * *

 

The Minutemen representatives walked into a casino. Suddenly, the world got even brighter. Ultra-Luxe was a place of inner beauty that the Commonwealth certainly didn’t have. Quinn immediately knew her husband was going to go to the slots. She had to contain him with the tight grasp of her arm. The arms were confiscated for the purpose of preventing a Mexican Standoff. Of course, the reminder of “if you find anything, we can’t stop you,” gave relief to the two mercenaries. As the Minutemen representatives walked past the bountiful harvest of gambling, a familiar face stopped Quinn in her tracks. She quickly grabbed her husband. After a small whispering conversation that only they were able to understand, they both noticed that the rest of the group watched in curiosity.

“Just go on without us,” MacCready replied.

Of course, out of curiosity, the synth and the girl stayed behind. Duncan urged the two of them to continue onwards. They wouldn’t budge.

“Look, you two don’t want to see this,” the boy warned.

Listening from the distance, the two witnessed the portly, older man approach the mercenaries. His look was smug. He purposely bumped into Quinn, before making the snide remark of, “Oh, why, it’s you!”

Quinn remained quiet. Her face was bitter.

“Sam’s bringing you girls here, right? What happened with your hair?”

Quinn backed up. The man inched closer.

“Get the hell away from her!” the mercenary called, standing in between his wife and the man.

Suddenly, things went south. The portly man got into the mercenary’s face. “Do you have any idea who I am?” he called, causing a scene with the rest of the gamblers. Frankly, he also didn’t know who the scrawny mercenary was. MacCready’s face sneered into what Danse would describe to be a wolf’s growl. Suddenly, the fight broke out, as the mercenary swung to the man’s face. The portly figure plopped to the ground, followed by more punching. Quinn inched upwards, doing what the three couldn’t describe. The staff looked onwards, not doing anything. The commotion had Danse begging to step in to stop the fight. After all, MacCready had the advantage. Duncan finally convinced the two to turn a blind eye. As they walked towards the elevator, the synth broke the big question.

He took a moment to find the right words.

“The guy hurt my Mom a long time ago. It’s been a thing with the two of them to get revenge.”

The synth and girl looked at each other, rather confused.

* * *

 

“I don’t want to get out of this bed!”

Quinn had the blanket wrapped around her whole body. It sank in the mattress. MacCready found it absolutely adorable. As he removed his gear, Duncan was about to leave the room. “I’m going to go find a Nuka Cola. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be too long.”

The boy waved. He closed the door.

As he traveled down the hallway, the beaten portly man was just passing. Having noticed where Duncan came out from, he started to bang on the door. “I’ll make sure Sam hears about this,” cried the man, his face bloated with bruises. The nickname, “Sam,” wasn’t new. No one knew how to pronounce “Shijuku Samara.” It just turned to “Sam.” With the name popped up, Duncan was ready to strike. The preteen proceeded to pull a knife he had found out, before approaching the man. He turned to the kid, rather smug.

“Your Dad having a little fun in there, Kid?”

Duncan didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to say. Instead, he swung his knife right into the man’s kneecap. The figure fell forward. MacCready suddenly opened the door. “Knife,” he demanded.

The kid obliged. The man rolled on the floor, his knee bleeding.

“Karlie, you wanna finish him?”

“You do it,” she called from the bed. She was obviously comfortable.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

The man was as confused as he was in pain. MacCready bent to his knees. He rubbed his stubble, before speaking.

“I took out Sam and her dogs years ago. Almost ten years, actually. When you thought they just relocated, they were more just biting the dust.”

He took a look to the workers down the hall. He cracked his neck.

“And that woman you demanded follow you for close to nothing, that’s my fucking wife.”

A laughter of disbelief left the man. Duncan scoffed. He took off to get his cola.

With the trademark smug grin, MacCready then pulled the knife to the man’s throat, slitting it. Blood spewed in the direction Duncan had left. In the distance was Danse and Julia, watching the behavior. The mercenary definitely noticed them, to which, he took the moment to approach them. Wiping the blood off the knife, he stretched a bit, waved his body back and forth, and looked away before saying,

“Whatever you saw, it’s justice.”

He made eye contact with the synth before him.

* * *

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eudinae's name is pronounced, "Yeh-Deh-Nay."

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

“You swore last night.”

“You fucking know it.”

Quinn and Duncan both looked at each other as the cocky mercenary packed his backpack. It was very early morning. After a long ride from Boston, everyone took the early slumber, to which, dawn was just approaching over the horizon. Nick had a smoke just outside the casino, with the additional company of the mercenaries and Ronnie. Meanwhile, in the lobby, Preston came up to Danse, before spotting the young girl next to him. “How are the two of you?” the Colonel asked, his face solemn. With a happy nod, he was happy to know. A short conversation came into play between Danse and Preston, from boasting of Julia’s skills, to moving on to the events from the night before. When they came out to witness the sun slowly emerge from the horizon, a NCR trooper approached them.

* * *

 

“Hello, Minutemen.”

Everyone crowded into the office while the President introduced himself. He was a tall, muscular man, grey hair, grey eyes, and a boned, hard-structured face. He donned a clean suit with a striped tie. The MacCready family snickered when he said his name. “I am Richard Wehnkner.”

“More like Dick Wanker,” MacCready whispered to his son, who almost pissed himself. Quinn kept her hand over her mouth to cover her wicked smile.

“Mr. MacCready, is it?”

“Just MacCready.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of you. If you have something to say, we’d all love to hear it.”

The mercenary sniffed to let out all laughter he had left. With a loose few steps, his movements pronounced but relaxed, he placed his hands in front of his torso. “Do you come here, often?”

“Yes, I uh, I do. I’m the president.”

Duncan and Quinn were snickering quite loudly over the comment.

“He’s merely joking,” Nick suddenly called out, before giving a look to the mercenary. MacCready sealed his lips in a very crunched fashion, the corners of his mouth digging into his cheeks.

The President emerged from his seat. In came two NCR members, although they didn’t wear any specific clothing fitting to the faction.

“These are my Reconnaissance snipers, Craig Boone and Eudinae Harlow.”

Quinn was in awe over the woman. She seemed a bit older, definitely in her thirties. She had curly dark brown hair, almost a mahogany, that let loose from her black hat. On the hat contained two cards: An ace and Queen. She donned a leotard, complete with camouflage pants, combat boots, and a puffy vest. Her makeup was strong and bold, consisting of bold white speckles that sparkled around her eyes. Quinn compared it to a doe. Her lips were tattooed with a heart henna, which trickled down to her chin. Eudinae’s blue irises met the ginger’s.

“Are these the mercenaries?” the woman called. She had a heavy Southern Accent. Quinn assumed she was from Texas.

Boone instantly asked for the assistance of the two. As they walked out, Duncan was about to trail along, before the President stopped him.

“Son, we may need you here.”

“I go where my parents go,” he barked.

Wehnkner wasn’t having it. The president snapped his fingers, and pointed downwards. Duncan reluctantly complied. He took a spot back at the corner, away from everyone else.

“Before this alliance comes into play, I need some assistance. The NCR is having some deep troubles,” he confessed.

“What kind of trouble?” Nick nodded with Preston’s statement.

“A group of bandits have reformed. About fifteen years ago, we had a war with a faction called Caesar’s Legion. A young boy managed to reform the remaining men of Caesar’s cause, and formed an alliance we only know as The Legion Remnants. These delinquents have killed numerous troops, and have kidnapped and enslaved our women and children.”

Julia looked down. Her heart dropped at the thought of women and child slaves.

“The ideology of these people is to ‘breed’ with the women, unlike their beliefs before. They’re used solely for reproduction purposes. It’s an absolute nightmare out there.”

“Is this why you’ve requested our alliance?” asked Ronnie. Her arms were crossed. She was skeptical of the suited politician.

* * *

 

“Robbie, I’m fucking high.”

“You’re fucking High? Gee, Karlie, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Dude, I don’t need the mindfuck right now.”

The duo followed Boone and Harlow. The mannerisms of the two had MacCready curious. He definitely saw Boone as a sniper. For Quinn, well, she was stoned to where she couldn’t pay enough attention to the people in front of her.

“Is she always this way?” Eudinae asked the mercenary. He began to question her excess use of the marijuana. Perhaps it was because she had a surplus. Perhaps the trip was too much for her to handle. Perhaps she was worried for something. He thought she was adorable when she was very relaxed, although the abuse was taking a turn for the worst. They managed to walk all the way back to the casino before a formal introduction.

“Boone here doesn’t talk much. I’m his second-in-command. I’m the one who barks.”

Eudinae held her hand out for Quinn. The ginger had her attention elsewhere. Frustrated, the brunette forced a handshake.

“So, do a lot of people speak like you do, Ms. Harlow?”

She rubbed her eyes. MacCready’s question was quite bold.

“What, my accent? It’s how people remember me.”

“Where did you come from?”

Eudinae waited a moment before answering. She crossed her arms.

“Texas. Grew up there, was orphaned. All I know is my last name’s Harlow and I come from a family of gun-loving cowboys and cowgirls.”

Quinn looked to her husband. She nudged him for a moment.

“Robbie here’s the descendant of The Legend of the West.”

“Are you sayin’ DeadEye Prodigy John Marston?”

The mercenary shrugged.

“It’s how I’m pretty damn good at what I do.”

Eudinae whistled.

“Damn, son. I’ve read all about the guy. He had an intense life.”

That the group nodded their heads to.

“So, President Wanker is a little too formal-“ As Eudinae turned around, Quinn and MacCready both snickered to “wanker.”

“So we came to save your down-to-Earth asses before he coops your mind with lies. He wants us to inspect a pyramid so we’re goin’ to follow his command for the time bein’.”

“Wait, what?” The two looked at the snipers.

“There’s a Pyramid in the border between the United States and Mexico. Some facility. No one’s been able to open it.”

“Then why is he sending us?” Quinn was beginning to sober up.

“Easy. He doesn’t want ‘us’ to get involved with The Remnants.”

The two looked even more confused, considering they missed the explanation of Caesar’s Legion and its new leader.

“They’re makin’ big bucks to sell our troops and keep the Remnants happy. I’m just landing you a warnin’ in case they decide to come for you,” Eudinae replied. Boone cracked his neck, showing his frustration.

“I left them once already, and came back with a promise of a good cause. Now I’m bound a contract here as a slave myself,” he replied.

“Sorry to hear, buddy.” MacCready placed a hand on Boone’s shoulder.

“Basically, we’re plannin’ on gettin’ rid of that rat. If you two would be able to help us, we’d appreciate it.”

“Do any of the other troops know about this?” asked Quinn.

Eudinae sighed.

“There’s the rumor, but some are skeptical.”

A sudden worry overwhelmed MacCready. He brought his preteen son, although a good gun himself. However, the kid was small, so he was physically weak. The only thing to keep him from being a slave was his own gun.

On the other hand, there was Julia, who had just turned eighteen. Quinn was another potential victim, having been a slave herself. On the other hand, she could not bear children, considering her time in the Brothel caused numerous infections, resulting to her infertility. The worry for the three youngest members of the group was enough to agree on Boone and Eudinae’s plan of overthrowing Dick Wehnkner.

On the other hand, Danse, Julia, Nick, and Preston were trusting to the President. His charm had affected them. As for Ronnie, well, she was immune to bullshit.

The Quartermaster met outside with the mercenaries and Recon snipers. She immediately felt uneasy in the office, but around the two joking mercenaries, she had a particular trust in them.

“I’m here to join you guys on your recon business,” said Ronnie, as she approached the four.

Eudinae instantly introduced herself. Quinn instantly filled Ronnie in.

“You do know the four do-gooders in there aren’t going to believe a single word you two say?” asked the Quartermaster.

“We know.”

MacCready sighed to himself, before rotating his neck.

“We’re cheating liars who have no morals. They would rather believe a literal Dick than the two of us.”

With that, MacCready reached into Quinn’s pocket before pulling out a joint. He lit it up, before offering to share with Ronnie. She obliged. The five made conversation, and instantly grew a liking of having their own group of capable outcasts.

* * *

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

Duncan was very upset to be separated from his parents. Years ago, he would have loved to be away from them. It was odd to see that a preteen was so persistent in keeping up with the authority figures.

He proceeded to pull out his journal, before making an entry. Julia noticed. She never assumed that the kid knew how to write. In fact, she assumed he was illiterate, given that his parents were stoned, tattooed mercenaries.

“You like to write?” she asked softly.

He scoffed. Granted, she was an adult, but was still patronized, and looked at to be a kid by some. He even considered her a kid.

“I love to read. Dad used to read to me as a baby, and I picked up books and never looked back.”

She never imagined that the reputable mercenary of the Commonwealth was literate.

“What do you write about?”

“Myself, my parents, whatever I feel like.”

His blue eyes met hers. His head was angled, but his eyes looked up in her general direction. The boy was curious as to why she wanted to know.

Although he was sprouting into puberty, he didn’t seem to have any interest towards girls. It was a running joke. He had his parents guessing at times over what direction he leaned towards. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, he had no romantic feelings for anyone. He had no romantic connection to anyone. Everyone was either a brother, sister, wastelander, parent, or target.

The group met with the two snipers at the middle of the strip. MacCready and Quinn decided to keep quiet to those in favor of the President. After all, it wasn’t their problem if the four were gullible.

* * *

 

The next day, Boone and Eudinae requested the service of the mercenaries. Despite the president’s protests, Duncan also came with. Boone seemed to respect the child, and moreso the father, considering he was a talented gun.

The ground felt different. It felt dry. In the Commonwealth, considering they were next to the ocean, the ground was muddy and wet. It was soft. In the Mojave, it beat so hot that the sweat that emitted from the duo’s pores melted into their clothing, causing them to carry as much water as possible.

The pyramid along the horizon was isolated. Not a single lifeform guarded the facility. No one approached it. Boone used his scope to get a good look to the door, before sighing.

“We’ve never been able to open it. For awhile we had some worshippers guarding the facility, but who knows what happened to them.”

Seeing what was there had the trio curious themselves. What had caused the government to lock something in such a very protective manner?

* * *

 

Julia and Danse accompanied President Wehnkner as they walked down the halls of the Embassy. The red carpet smelled moldy. Julia wondered if their alliance would allow the NCR to have better headquarters.

On the walls were names of the past presidents, as well as the paintings of all they could paint. Next to President Wehnkner was President Kimball. Both seemed curious.

“What happened to President Kimball?”

“Unfortunate circumstances. I took his place after he unfortunately passed from an unknown illness.”

Both showed looks of compassion and sympathy.

The president gave the brief to the father-daughter duo. They seemed very convinced of Wehnkner’s ideology. Little did they know was he sat on a throne of lies.

When the two walked out, Nick had waited for them. Over the course of the years, Danse began to respect the synth detective. Their moral views were very similar, prompting the two synths to bond.

“I suppose we have to make our way to Ultra-Luxe.”

Upon entering the casino, the three were instantly discomforted by the masks. A guard quickly came up and confiscated the guns, just as Gomorrah had done. Nick received the most looks, considering he was the least human. Some words were spat, although Danse remained surprised that the retorts were just as sharp. Julia instantly gripped her [father]’s arm. She felt extremely uncomfortable.

The trio stumbled across a figure in the restaurant.

“Why, we’ve never seen anything like you around here.”

“The more of us live in the Commonwealth,” Nick replied.

The woman in the long dress was intrigued by the make of Nick. She was even more attracted to Danse. When she noticed the girl, a smile wrapped around her nose.

“President Wehnkner is expecting a delivery from us. He’s rather eager for it.”

The package was handed over to the detective. His clawed, ripped hand picked the package up.

“Just give him my regards,” the old woman smiled, before a wink.

“You are Marjorie, am I correct?”

She suddenly turned back around to face Danse. After a nod, she rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted, perhaps from the demand of the new menu served there. After all, her ideology came true after the cannibals were removed. With the new recipes in mind, she put her mind to work, and soon, caused more clientele to appear. However, as of 2296, the weather started to act up, making the resources harder to obtain.

* * *

 

The group of mercenaries and recon snipers attempted to make their way through the doors. Duncan was an expert at lockpicking, but unfortunately, the door was too much of a match for him. Eudinae let out a sigh after the group sat for awhile. She was the first to make a sound. Her voice was rather irritated.

“We need to get that synth guy y’all brought with.”

“Which one?” asked MacCready. The brunette gave him a confused look.

The dirt blew in the wind. The grains prompted the group to pull out their goggles. After awhile of conversation, they gave up, and approached the old truck they used to drive out, before heading back.

After making it into the North Gate of the Strip, it was bright and colorful, but it looked slightly emptier. The NCR troops were busy making way with their prostitutes. Some have approached the representatives. Quinn kept her arm wrapped around her husband’s, signaling the women to keep their distance. Once they made their way into the Gomorrah, soon handing their weapons over, they met with the rest of the representatives.

“We see you’ve made friends with the snipers,” said Preston. He was visibly exhausted.

“Just like you’ve made buddies with Dick Wanker?” MacCready wasn’t in the mood for Preston’s interrogating.

“They seem distant from him. Why? You people are hiding something.”

“Like always,” the mercenary replied.

“Although this time, we’ve got the truth.”

Nick kept quiet, but felt a need to side with Preston. Nonetheless, he was curious as to what the group was doing. His curiosity was in the process of relief when the mercenary asked him to follow.

* * *

 

Upon reaching the hall, Nick looked at MacCready with a very concerned expression. He visibly noticed. After a sigh, and a loose wave of his torso, MacCready soon said, “We need your help.”

“My help?”

He sighed.

“There’s a facility in the border of Mexico and the United States. We need your help unlocking it.”

* * *

 

By early morning, the group rolled out, with the additional party of Nick. When they reached the facility, which was a long drive away, they were greeted by a Deathclaw. Fortunately, the skills of the group didn’t make the fight long. After Eudinae skinned the creature, she packed its meat and continued with them to the giant pyramid.

“We’ve seen this before,” Nick exclaimed, in frustration.

“In the Commonwealth. I know.”

Nick turned to Quinn. She was present with Nate that time, when they cleared the armory.

The detective approached the door. He inspected it carefully.

“There’s your problem. It requires a very small tool to unlock.”

“Will your hand do the trick?” asked Eudinae.

“Very much so.”

The synth proceeded to mess with it, before feeling the jackpot. The doors began to decompress. The way through had opened. A gust of cold air emitted from the hole, which felt extremely good to the group.

The facility wasn’t just dark, but it was huge. Quinn turned her Pip-Boy on as the rest of the group flipped the switches on their flashlights. They kept together, despite the size. When they came down the stairs, another locked door blocked them from continuing.

“I’ll get it,” said Nick.

He messed with the lock, before the door gave in and opened. Behind it was an office. Inside the drawers were folders, records. The group dived into each folder, examining the readings carefully.

“What the hell?” Quinn whispered. The cold air escaped her mouth.

“So, from what I’m getting with these folders, we had some big sickness way back centuries ago?” MacCready looked to Boone. The sharpshooter shrugged in response.

“Why haven’t we seen anything like these before?” Eudinae grabbed each folder before scattering them about in order.

“Maybe they didn’t want people to know,” responded Nick. MacCready nodded in agreement.

Eudinae kept on reading. Boone stayed behind to protect her. Nick followed the mercenaries, while Duncan stayed with the NCR snipers. Down the next set of stairs, was something they have never seen before.

“Are you seeing this?” MacCready asked, his voice suddenly cracking.

Inside the facility, were cryo pods. In each cryo pod was an occupant… except one.

“Just like Nate,” Quinn responded in awe. A fluorescent light moved in her direction, blinding her sight for a split second.

* * *

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

The synth and two mercenaries began to explore more of the cryo facility. Computers were everywhere. Nick managed to attempt to hack into each one, hoping to free the people. In the meantime, Quinn and MacCready went through papers, folders, anything that could hint a password or few. When Nick found the pattern to one of the codes, he plugged in, allowing the cryopod behind them to get to work. It took a few minutes, considering the models were much older than the ones in Vault 111, although the three had not known that, as they had never stepped foot inside it before.

The pod opened, but there was no body. It had thawed before the opening, so it was moist and dripping from the bottom. In the meantime, the two snipers and boy had made their way downstairs to discuss their findings.

“So, from what we pieced togetha’,” began Eudinae,

“There was some sickness that had all kinds of people dyin’ and turnin’ on each other. It died off in 2016, but it was so bad that ‘round eighty percent of the world was killed off by the time it was over.”

“Some Croatoan bullshit?” MacCready asked, sarcastically.

Quinn had never heard that word before. She didn’t get where he was getting at.

“You’re funny. So uh, according to the files we got, this virus was actually the first step to Forced Evolutionary Virus. So basically, they’ve been working on FEV since 2009.”

The rest of the group began to look at each other.

“Another scary as shit fact: as of 2077, everyone in the world still had the DNA mutations in their systems.”

Eudinae had a hard time spitting the last sentence out. After reading more information from the files, it turned out that the first strain of FEV was what allowed the humans of the post-apocalyptic wasteland to handle radiation better than they could have without it. In addition, everyone’s bodies reacted to radiation differently, making the information even harder to comprehend. However, it made sense. It made too much sense.

Suddenly, the group was startled by an approaching… robot. No, not robot: it was a _Robobrain._

“Oh, great, looks like we’re either going to get some crappy information, lured to our deaths, or receive what would feel like an endless amount of insults,” MacCready started again, sarcastically.

“You shut your whore mouth, you filthy rat!” replied the Robobrain.

“What did I tell you?” The mercenary remained accomplished of his hindsight.

The voice of the Robobrain hinted annoyance. Nick, Quinn, and MacCready all picked up a Boston accent.

“You from The Commonwealth?” Quinn asked softly.

“I can be from wherever you want me to be, Sweetheart.”

“That’s my fucking wife you sheet of metal!” yelled MacCready in defense.

After a turn from the Robobrain, the mercenary instantly concluded that he hated the guy.

“It’s about fucking time someone got in here! I lost count over how long it’s been!”

The Robobrain traveled to the end of the cryo pods.

“What’s your name, Sir?” asked Nick.

“Nick.”

Those who weren’t named Nick ended up cracking up.

“Two Nicks and they're both gear heads,” called Quinn.

“Then call me Valentine, Smartass.”

The ginger shrugged. No one could tell that expression the Robobrain Nick could emit… he had no face. Upon looking around, the facility inhabited many people. They lost count of how many were truly there.

“What year was it when you were locked here, Nick?” asked Eudinae.

“2009.”

It became a game to figure out who was going to break the news. Actually, there wasn’t a game. It was hard to figure who was going to break the news, and Valentine was surely out of it considering he had already had his say.

“Sir, it’s 2296," said Eudinae. She was perplexed.

“You’re shitting me?”

The Robobrain sounded half-surprised. Perhaps being a robot for so long had his anticipation thrown in the dumpster.

There were so many questions that the group wanted to get out of the way. However, all kept their mouths shut. The world felt so much larger after finding out what was in the facility. With an eager hand to collect a scavenge team, the snipers decided to make their way out. Valentine continued to scan through the computers for clues.

“I’ll stay here with the foul-mouthed Robobrain. You three go ahead and work with the snipers.”

The duo thought about breaking the President’s conspiracies to the detective. They had decided to keep their mouths shut, and began to follow the other two out.

* * *

 

“Did the snipers tell you about the Legion Remnants?”

Quinn and MacCready both nodded. Duncan was a little concerned of the opposing group. After all, the threat of The Legion was worrying.

The night at the Gomorrah was bright but draining. The duo wasn’t up for gambling, which was a conversation that was brought up the night before. Quinn and MacCready instead decided to walk about to tire themselves out even more, possibly result to a good night’s rest.

The looks from the hookers upon entering the courtyard made the duo uneasy. As numerous faces approached them, the duo politely rejected their offers. After all, fresh air was needed.

* * *

 

Danse remained in his room, counting the caps. When he noticed the young woman walk in, he smiled. She sighed, giving a fake smile in return, before unpacking her belongings. It was a lot of gear, after all.

“I thought they won’t allow you to walk around with guns?”

“They’re not guns, you goof!”

The girl’s voice was muffled by her huffs. She pulled out numerous bottles of water.

“I planned ahead.”

“How much did you pay for this?”

“I did what you taught me. I collected numerous bottles, and used the natural way of purifying the water. Turns out charcoal is big to the East.

The synth sighed, before smiling. He proceeded to move into the small kitchen area, before inserting the bottles inside the fridge. After doing so, he yawned. After all, Danse had quite the day himself.

* * *

 

“So I heard you used to be a Brotherhood soldier,” the President mentioned.

The synth nodded.

“You might be useful here. My troops definitely need some training. They keep getting snatched or killed!”

Danse noticed the amount of troops from the day before was significantly less. He paid no mind to what the President really had in mine. Hell, he didn’t notice that the troops who disappeared were _all women._

He showed them many things. Instead of a military drill, the meet with the troops was more of a seminar. Danse showed them how to stitch their wounds if need be. He scolded the President, telling him that laser weapons were the more useful choice of gun. The troops instantly took a liking and a respect for Danse. He returned the same feelings.

As for the President, he respected that the man was firm and concise. However, he still considered Nate to be the best authorial figure. Granted, the Vault Dweller was something else. In one lifetime, he served in a war centuries before. After being cryogenically frozen, Nate had searched the Wastelands for his son, but in the meantime, and brought so many people together on a cooperative goal of defeating the Institute. Despite being a good man, however, Nate had some hard times, especially after he had to kill his own son. The synth replacement was a good kid. He was a smart kid. Nate held onto that, hoping to have been the real parent he had hoped to be to the human Shaun.

As for Wehnkner, he was a mind of his own. As an older man, but not nearly as old as the General of the Minutemen, Wehnkner was firm, strapped. He had his foot down, and whatever he said went. As a soldier himself, Danse respected that kind of Authority. Nate, however, treated everyone as an equal. He put no one below himself. Danse found that to be a downfall, as It seemed to be an invitation for power.

Danse looked at Julia. Her blue eyes glistened as he sat onto the bed. She was hooked onto him. She wanted to know details. She wanted to know _everything._

“You get some rest, Kiddo.”

“Don’t you think I’m a little old to be called ‘Kiddo?’”

Danse smiled, as he went to turn the light switch.

“You’ll always be _‘Kiddo’_ to me.”

* * *

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

Duncan walked down the strip with his gun cocked. He received the conspiracy on Wehnkner. The boy remained vigilant, not trusting anyone who passed him by. He was just at risk as anyone else in the wasteland was.

When he reached the gate, he approached a guard who was smoking a cigarette. “Mind sharing?” the boy asked.

“Aren’t you a little young?”

“If you tell me I’m too young for that shit, clearly you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“Fair point.” The guard handed what was left to the kid. He huffed the fumes. It was a rough morning, even moreso over the fact that Quinn had run out of Mutkush. It was a relief to see her situated and less stoned.

Quinn collected her weapons. When she and her husband left the casino, she counted her belongings and ammunition. After noticing that everything was in place, Quinn came up to her step-son who was smoking at the gates.

“I thought you were going to quit?”

“Trying, Mom.” Duncan squished the remains.

Quinn cracked her neck. Her eyes scanned the area. MacCready noticed her sense of paranoia. Perhaps she was dependent on the Mutkush? It wasn’t addicting… not at all.

MacCready decided to ask the woman as they continued outward with the troops. She shook her head.

“Keeps me together.”

“I know it does.”

“Then why are you asking?”

MacCready sighed. He looked around before responding,

“You’ve been stoned this whole time, and now that you’re out, you’re just… off.”

His wife didn’t answer. She tried to shake it off. Although Quinn was comfortable with her husband, she wasn’t comfortable breaking out the reason why she was very dependent.

 

* * *

 

When the troops stationed near where The Remnants were located to meet, The snipers quickly got into gear and located far away. Quinn and Eudinae kept guard while the two snipers set their scopes to whoever would lead the group. Duncan remained at their side, spectating the two men. At the bottom, the troops remained at a parade rest. The Minutemen representatives remained near the troops. Alongside them was the Ambassador. His name was Fronso. No one knew his first name; he never mentioned it. From what the group got out of him, he was self-centered and extremely intimidating.

The leader approached them. He was dressed in what looked like a modern version of Roman gear. He was rather young, possibly not even in his twenties. His hair was brown, with droopy, brown eyes. He looked almost classy, in exception to the gold that covered his limbs and torso. What caught the group was his suit, which was a dark plaid. His voice was smooth, almost too smooth. No matter why he gained so many followers.

“By God, over my Whore Mother’s grave, look at you!”

His attention was focused on Julia. He looked into her blue eyes, before stroking her short, ginger hair. Part of it was tied back with braids. He proceeded to break one of the braids, allowing it to hang out. She was visibly uncomfortable by his advances. Danse was instantly angered with the young man. He stepped in to defend his daughter.

“Your behavior to my daughter is unacceptable.”

“This is the kind of knack you bring me, Fronso?”

The ambassador approached the leader. His voice was frightening.

“We’re here to find common ground, Bruno.”

The young man inched away. He straightened his tie. Outside the negotiation with the group, the snipers remained afar, capturing the audio with a device.

“Looks like The Chairmen’s son is the leader, and he’s got the hots for Danse’s daughter,” said Boone.

“Chairmen? Who are the Chairmen?” asked MacCready.

“A group o’ trouble makers. They were run by some checker-suited fancy man named Benny.”

“And that’s his son?” MacCready looked over to Eudinae. She nodded.

“Does he know?”

“Yep. He boasts it like it’s a dick measurin’ contest,” replied Eudinae.

“In fact, the kid is the spawn of Benny and a Gomorrah prostitute,” Boone added, as he looked into the scope. The mercenary looked to his wife. She shrugged. He continued to listen to the argument.

Suddenly, Boone stopped breathing. He then pulled the trigger, which took out a Legion soldier.

A fight suddenly broke out. MacCready and Boone continued to fire, while remnants who discovered the group began to run towards them. Quinn, Duncan, and Eudinae kept close range. The ginger was extremely impressed with the Harlow sharpshooter. She had an amount of respect that she didn’t have for others.

Julia kept close to Danse. The sight of the boy attempting to court her rang in his mind. It pained him. It ate at him. She tried to pay no attention to it, and continued to fire to the coming remnants. They had Pipe guns, which didn’t have threatening damage. The bullets were fired too weakly to really cause a fatality. Not a single NCR Soldier was killed, but the Ambassador had officially declared war on The Legion Remnants.

* * *

 

In the casino, Julia and Duncan sat at a table, sharing a bottle of alcohol. The boy pulled out his journal. He began to write of the events that had happened. Julia chose to remain oblivious to the advances that Bruno had made. Danse, on the other hand, was aching.

He approached the mercenary. His eyes were tired. He noticed that MacCready’s were, too.

“Look,” he started, “I just have a question about your son.”

“Let me guess: you’re going to lecture me about how he’s a troublemaker,” replied the mercenary.

“No.”

Danse took a step back. He placed his hands on both sides of his waist. He looked down, before up. After a long sigh, he then asked,

“How do you feel about the situation earlier?”

“The whole groping situation with that bastard kid?”

“Bastard?”

MacCready crossed his arms, before explaining the rumor he heard from Boone and Eudinae. Danse felt his heart drop. He looked to Julia. His eyes remained worried.

“Hey, are you alright?” Danse’s mind scattered. His sad eyes moved to MacCready’s, although he zoned out.

“Hey, we’re talking here, right?”

Danse didn’t reply.

“Come back down to Earth, Spaceman!”

When Danse snapped back, he sighed, before looking over to the girl.

“Maybe I’m underestimating her. She’s an adult now.”

“You’re just being a protective father. I’m sure she appreciated what you did, you know, stepping in when the kid was harassing her.”

Danse never heard a genuine statement like that from the likes of MacCready. He expected the opposite. He didn’t know how to act. Instead of saying thanks, he walked away. The mercenary looked on to the synth, completely perplexed.

* * *

 

Night hit. The boy remained by the girl’s side. Somehow, he had more of a connection to her than he had with others. Maybe it was because she was so young?

They conversed. Duncan explained to her who his parents were. She began to sympathize with the family, although was upset with the fact that his parents made a year trip when he was younger. When she told Duncan about Danse, he seemed to feel for the guy. Although Danse never explained who he was, or talked about who he was to Julia, she heard otherwise from Nate.

Before they got up to return to their rooms, the doors suddenly burst open. Legion Remnants began to fire at the desk, before taking casualties with the gamblers. Duncan and Julia attempted to make their way to the bank to retrieve their weapons. Once doing so, the stairway doors burst open with the remaining Minutemen group. Duncan passed the weapons to each Minuteman, including his parents. As they continued on, they hadn’t noticed that a Remnant had slipped a smoke grenade. When the group was unable to see each other, MacCready suddenly held his wife close, both keeping their eyes peeled. Ronnie called for everyone. Nick stepped forward, making himself a blunt target. Preston found Ronnie, and stood by her side. Danse called for Julia. There was no answer.

When the smoke died down, the Remnants were gone. Bodies of countless gamblers were lying dead around the casino. A pool of blood formed at the bottom platform, as the bodies from the platforms above had leaking blood that trickled down the edges. The desk members survived. The bank manager, however, did not.

Duncan ran over to his parents before embracing them in relief.

Everyone was within sight… except Julia.

Danse quickly ran outside the doors. He noticed the destruction down the strip. Among the bodies of NCR troops were also other gamblers. He lost the feeling of his legs. As Danse fell to his knees, he couldn’t hear the surrounding Minutemen members fighting and attempting to comfort him.

* * *

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

Danse fell to his knees. Duncan and Quinn instantly came up to him, trying to talk to him, comfort him. MacCready was instantly pissed. He started yelling, throwing things. Quinn instantly got up to comfort him, before Preston tried to collect a baseball bat. MacCready began to yell at Nick, before the synth retorted back calmly. Preston tried to calm MacCready down, and Ronnie then chimed in to finally tell them about the conspiracy surrounding President Wehnkner. The synth and Colonel tried to not believe it. They continued to fight, causing a wreck. Duncan joined in on the fight. As Danse looked on, he heard mumbles, as the ring in his ears began to crescendo. When his nerve snapped, Danse instantly got up, grabbing the bat from Preston’s hands, before causing havoc around the destroyed strip. As the synth let all his anger out, MacCready looked Nick in the eyes, before saying, with gritted teeth, “We’re rounding up these fucking troops and exterminating these damn rodents!”

* * *

 

Hours passed. Danse couldn’t sleep. Nick patiently waited with him for more troops to show. Boone and Eudinae were the first to step in, and show their support. With a smile on her face, the middle-aged sharpshooter announced that she called reinforcements.

By morning, the remaining troops had brought the cryogenically frozen occupants from the facility. Many had died, but those who haven’t were sick. Instead of allowing the people to adapt to the new atmosphere, the NCR went right ahead and brought them out, which resulted in more casualties than they hoped. Among the people was Nick, the Robobrain.

“You know, if I had a body, I probably would have helped.”

“Yeah, yeah, I read your file, Nick,” retorted Eudinae.

“You’d probably take the essentials and run off, considering you were a conman.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Ronnie instantly had an idea with Nick. She began to ask around for any workbenches… robot workbenches in particular. After seeing a tinkerer, she lured the Robobrain to his upgrade.

One of the surviving cryo members approached Quinn and MacCready. He looked like he was in his mid twenties. His brown hair was curly, his blue eyes were innocent, his face was round, and although he had muscles, he was donned in a mechanic jumpsuit, T-shirt, and baseball cap. His Southern accent didn’t seem like he was from the West Coast.

“I uh, I jus’ wanna know how long I was frozen.”

“Well, since 2009. You do that math,” replied Quinn.

“Can you do math?” Asked MacCready.

“Aw, don’t patronize me. I just was looking for this Danse fellow. I wanted to express my sympathy.”

Quinn pointed towards the synth. The young man tipped his hat before turning around. MacCready was very interested in him otherwise, causing him to snap his fingers and ask the man to come forward.

He pointed down. The man took a seat.

“Where were you from?”

“Georgia. I ended up gettin’ captured by the military and then I guess they just drugged us, and I traveled in time.”

“We have quite a few time travelers here.”

MacCready then pointed to his wife. She shook her head.

“You know I hate when you tell people I’m from a Vault.”

“Love you too, Babe.”

The young man smiled. After his statement, MacCready gave a scrunched smile on his face. He then patted the young redneck’s shoulders.

“You know, we know a guy in Boston who kind of shares your getup. I think you’ll get along fine.”

The man smiled.

“Well, maybe I’ll move to Boston. Don’t fancy the dust storms here, Sir.”

The young man then got up to catch up with the synth. He collected a firearm along the way. MacCready took a look to his wife, before noticing that she was lighting a cigarette.

“Robbie, I’m serious about you telling people I’m a Vault Dweller.”

“A Time Traveling Vault Dweller.”

“Yeah, yeah. Next you’re going to tell people that I can rewind time.”

“No, that’s my thing,” MacCready replied, chuckling.

“You’re just my partner in time.”

He playfully nudged his wife. She put the cigarette in her mouth, before lightly punching her husband on his left bicep.

* * *

 

Ronnie needed someone to trust. She didn’t feel that any of the “do-gooders” were worth expressing her feelings to. Instead, she pulled the mercenary aside.

They both entered a tent. Inside the tent was a map of the Mojave. Two chairs were crossed from each other. Ronnie took a seat in the one furthest from the flap while MacCready took the other.

“Look, MacCready, I know you don’t respect me-“

MacCready was taken aback from her statement.

“I respect you, Ronnie. In fact, I respect you more than Gravy.”

“I appreciate it.”

He crossed his legs, proving he was comfortable.

“First thing’s first, why were you concerned about Danse’s daughter?”

MacCready, perplexed, blinked a couple of times. He bit his lower lip. He kicked the chair back. It took a good thought for an answer.

“Well, Ronnie, how would you feel if your kid was kidnapped?”

“Betting by the way that bastard treated Julia, I can’t imagine how Danse feels.”

“My point exactly.”

Ronnie lit a cigarette. The two shared an ash tray. She sighed.

“Wehnkner disappeared. I think he’s with the Legion.”

“Of course he is. He’s getting big caps for this.”

MacCready rubbed his fingers together.

Ronnie moved her body forward. She rubbed her forehead with her right arm. Her left arm rested on the table.

“Look, Kid. I’ll cut to the chase. I’m old. I’m not going to tell anyone, because I know you wouldn’t tell others about business like this, but…”

MacCready bent forward to meet eyes with the older woman.

She took a minute. She wrapped her hands over her nose. Her sigh was shaky.

“Don’t be surprised if I don’t make it out of this.”

* * *

The next few days had the group seeing a whole different side of Danse. He was impulsive. He was impatient. He gave no concern of his well-being. In fact, all he wanted was to just see his daughter. He wanted her back. He didn’t care if it killed him, he just wanted her safe and away from a perverted nutcase.

Quinn finally broke to MacCready why she abused the Mutkush in that time. Granted, she smoked it often, but she was stoned the first few days they were there. The reality of it was that she just felt out of place. Being stoned and seeing the lights was a whole new trip for her. She had never felt comfortable in a bed like the ones at Gomorrah. Even the mattresses at home weren’t good enough. It felt wrong for her to abuse the only thing that kept her sanity. When she lost dependency, she resorted to cigarettes. Cigarettes didn’t make her body light as a feather, however.

When the reinforcements came, the army wasn’t massive, but it wasn’t nearly as small as it used to be. The amount of followers of the NCR was undeniably amazing. However, the fight was still going to be difficult. It wasn’t going to last, but it wasn’t going to end with the Remnants on the top of the hill either.

When the troops made their way to Hoover Dam, where the last big fight took place, they found the Ambassador… dead. He was crucified to a cross, before his throat was slit. He was tied upside down. His blood ran down the dam, into the water. On his body was a note.

Danse read it. He crumbled the bloodied paper.

“They’re in Denver.”

“Big spot for the New Plague. What Duncan had.”

Danse looked to Quinn. He nodded.

* * *

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

A well-lit building lightened Denver. While all the other buildings remained deteriorated and worn out, the other Legion members slept in them or lived in them. The army kept low to allow a sneak attack.

“You know they’re expecting us,” said Ronnie.

Danse nodded.

Quinn took a look around before going to Boone and Eudinae, “You know, how much would it take for these Cultist nutcases to realize that the kid’s just treating them as second-class slaves while he just lives it large in the tower?”

“Like father, like son,” replied Boone.

The sharpshooters and mercenaries made their way out into the distance, the son included. They waited for the battle to commence. The fight to the building was not difficult at all. They managed to take all the remnants out, before looting the bodies. Perhaps the NCR had different ideologies about grave robbing from the Minutemen.

When the troops all made it inside, the mercenaries and sharpshooters also followed. A split was ensued. The MacCready family stuck together. There was no pulling them away.

Danse went off on his own. He took down countless soldiers, one by one.

Preston stayed with Ronnie. He had a bad feeling about leaving her.

Nick went off and tried to find Danse. He was afraid that the other synth would get himself killed.

The fight was long and brutal. While there were bullets flying, albeit pipe weapons, the ones with melee were much more difficult. Danse had almost been hit by the head countless times.

* * *

 

He went floor to floor. He searched every room. Once Danse saw a map, he studied it carefully. There was one room that he didn’t look: the Luxe-Suite.

He traveled up the stairways. As Legion members poured out floor-to-floor, Danse was able to one-up them. He reached the top floor, before running frantically down the hallways. He paused to look back at the maps to make sure the direction was correct. Upon finding the suite, he kicked the doors open. The sight broke his heart.

On the bed, was Julia. She was dressed in lingerie, and was knocked out cold. He kept his rifle loaded, ready to fire if anyone had jumped out. Luckily, no one didn’t. Danse proceeded to the bed, before pulling the young woman into his arms. He looked around, to make sure no one would jump out. He escaped.

About five minutes after Danse ran out, Nick ran in. Behind him were Preston and Ronnie. They looked around the room, before hearing a sound in the closet. When Nick opened the door, he pulled Bruno out. The young man was extremely cowardice. He cried, wailed, hoping help would come. Instead, Ronnie tied the kid up and threw him onto the bed. Ronnie pulled out a small box.

“What is that?” Preston asked, worriedly.

“My plan.”

“Your plan? I thought we were just rescuing the girl, which clearly Danse has already!”

Preston had a point. At the same time, Ronnie had something else in mind.

“We’re blowing this place up. It’s going down in history. All Legion members gone and out of existence.”

“You’re out of your mind, Ronnie!”

Valentine didn’t say anything. He just pulled out his cigarette.

“She does have a point Preston.”

An argument started. The Colonel and detective argued relentlessly. Nick understood where Preston was coming from. On the other hand, He saw Ronnie’s plan before. He saw how she felt. Even if he wasn’t present, he knew it. She was tired. She had nothing to go back to. All she did was train and sell. She was tired of her life.

* * *

 

The MacCready family kept their feet firm. Their guns blazed through the legion members. However, over time, they began to lose ammunition.

Quinn began to panic as incoming Remnants poured through the doors. It felt endless. With a losing battle, she sprang to action. Quinn ran as fast as she could, before piling over a corpse. She began to loot him, frantically looking for any useful ammo.

“God dammit!” she whispered under her breath.

MacCready and Duncan remained on the other side. The kid had a bit of spare left and shot a whoever came towards his step-mother. MacCready remained at firing towards anyone coming towards them.

Quinn didn’t pay attention to any incoming targets.

“Mom!” called Duncan. He ran out of ammunition.

“What?” Quinn looked over to her step-son before-

The sound of her skull cracking sent a wave of anger and adrenaline through the mercenary. He ran into the firefight, pouncing onto the legion member. With tears welling into his eyes, MacCready beat into the face, over and over, through the nose, lodging the cartilage into the brain. He continued to beat on to the dead member, mushing the face until it was unrecognizable. Duncan tried to get his father off the dead member. MacCready, panicked, grabbed Quinn, whose head was bleeding profusely. Wish his eyesight blinded by tears, Duncan moved them forward to the entrance.

Meanwhile, Preston made the difficult decision to let Ronnie go. Valentine placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We have to go, Mr. Garvey.”

Heartbroken, the Colonel waved a farewell to the Quartermaster.

In the meantime, Danse had Julia out, with the help of Boone and Eudinae. They were stationed near the injured, ready to be taken to the infirmary. Outside, they spotted MacCready and Duncan. All of them panicked when they saw blood gushing from Quinn’s head.

MacCready tripped upon reaching the group. A trooper instantly came up to tend to Quinn’s wound. Upon outside inspection, she yelled for reinforcements.

“Her head’s swollen! We need to get her out of here!”

Duncan remained at his father’s side, his arms wrapped around his shoulder.

Nick and Preston were the last ones to make it out. After Ronnie saw the men through the window, she took a seat next to Bruno.

“What did you do to the girl,” asked Ronnie.

The young man didn’t look at her.

Ronnie took out a cigarette, before lighting it. After her first huff, she ran the lit end into the young man’s skin.

He still wouldn’t speak. He only screamed.

Unsatisfied, Ronnie looked down to the button. She got another huff in. With a shaky sigh, she whispered,

“Game over.”

She pressed the button.

As the doctors loaded Julia and Quinn into the APC truck, the conscious members of the group looked on to the explosion before them. Preston was extremely upset over the sight, but not a single tear fell from his eyes.

* * *

* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

It took a few hours for the girl to wake up. She was dressed in normal clothing, the kind she usually wore. Julia sat up, before rubbing her eyes. She spotted Danse across from her.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You were kidnapped.”

Julia sat back. She then sighed.

“I don’t remember being kidnapped.”

It was confirmed that she was drugged the whole few days she was taken. However, it was suspected that Julia was just extremely tired to where she just remained asleep. She looked into the lights above her. She had no idea what happened.

A doctor stepped into the room. He looked very concerned.

“Miss Julia, how are you feeling?”

“Why am I in here?”

“You were drugged. We did some tests on you. Do you recall anything that happened yesterday?”

The girl shook her head. Her mind was completely blank. The doctor continued to look down at his notes. Danse remained in his seat. A few grunts emitted from the doctor’s lips.

“Are you absolutely sure, Miss Julia?”

“Uh, yeah I am.” Her voice was harsh.

He continued to reread his notes. When he put the clipboard onto the counter, he looked over to her.

“I have some news for you. Would you mind if your father is present?”

* * *

 

It took hours for the doctors to get Quinn into stable condition. The blunt force to her head cracked her skull, as well as swelling her brain and causing a hemorrhage. They weren’t sure she was going to make it. Even as she lay in the bed before her husband, still on anesthesia and morphine, they weren’t sure she was going to wake up.

MacCready stayed on the couch in front of her. He thought it was a funny situation- years before she sat at his side when he was impaled in San Antonio. She never left. This time, he refused to leave the chair.

Duncan entered the room. He took a seat next to his father. It took the boy a few minutes to whip up the courage to speak.

“Dad,” he started.

MacCready said nothing. His eyes were red from the tears and fatigue.

Duncan took another minute to say something else.

“Remember when I was sick? You and Mom saved me.”

“I remember too well,” replied his father, shakily.

Duncan leaned forward on the chair, towards his father. His elbows rested on his knees.

“We saved Mom.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Even if she isn’t the same Dad, we still saved her.”

Duncan’s voice was shaky. His eyes were beginning to hue red.

A few minutes passed of silence.

MacCready sighed, before asking,

“Do you remember anything of Lucy?”

Duncan felt like it was a very unconventional time to talk about _her_.

“N-no, I don’t,”

MacCready sighed again.

“When she died, it took everything I had to get us out of that metro station.”

Duncan didn’t say anything. There was another pause.

“That night, after we got out, I made camp at the only place I thought was safe. I didn’t sleep that night. You were crying. You had no idea what happened. You were just hungry.”

Duncan looked down.

“I pulled my gun out. I made a few paces back and forth. I didn’t know what to do.”

MacCready looked on to his son. His eyes were sincere.

“I pulled the gun on you.”

Duncan was taken aback.

“Why?”

“I thought that if your Mom died that night, that we should have too.”

His voice was even more shaky. Tears streamed down his face. His lower lip shivered.

“I thought if I took your life, then I would have been able to end mine without thought.”

“But you didn’t.”

The mercenary didn’t say anymore. He looked back to Quinn. She was on her stomach, her left side lying into the pillow. The right side was bandaged. Her ginger hair still stained red from the blood. Her blood even smudged her beautiful freckles.

“Dad,” Duncan replied, tears falling down his cheeks.

“You… not killing us, you did right.”

His father didn’t turn his face. He sniffed. He then wiped the snot from his nostrils.

“If you hadn’t rescued Mom, she would have been stuck in the Brothel still, or possibly dead. You gave her a family when she had none left. She gave us a family.”

The mercenary didn’t reply to his son. Duncan got up from the chair. He placed a hand on his father’s shoulders, before stepping out of the room.

* * *

 

A few hours later, another knock was at the door. In came Danse.

“MacCready.”

He didn’t answer. The mercenary kept on to his wife.

“I’m deeply sorry for what happened.”

Danse began to move up to the chair Duncan sat in hours before. He took a seat.

Upon a glimpse of Quinn’s injury, his heart dropped. She slept peacefully from the drugs, but the circumstances were absolutely terrible.

“I heard a rumor about Julia.” MacCready then looked to Danse. “Is it true?”

It took him a long pause to answer.

“It is.”

“Hm.” MacCready looked back to Quinn. Another pause went into play.

“I was worried about what would have happened to her, and I was too focused on getting her back. I caused so much pain. Quinn’s injury, Ronnie’s gone…”

“Danse.”

MacCready’s voice was soft.

“The reason why I got so pissed off when that fucking rat took your kid, is because she’s _your_ family.”

Danse didn’t say anything.

“Even if you’re machine and she’s human. Even if you didn’t have her, she’s _your_ daughter. No one messes with family.”

Danse felt a lump in his throat.

He looked down. After turning his head in an angle, he announced:

“She’s thinking about aborting the baby.”

“Tell her not to. It’ll be her biggest fucking mistake.”

Danse looked back up to the mercenary. His eyes were still bright red from the tears. They had dried, however.

“Even if the kid doesn’t have a father,” he pointed to Danse, “You step in as a grandfather. You help her raise that damn kid.”

His words stung into Danse’s heart. His gritted teeth harshened the tone.

“Quinn would have told you the same thing if she was awake.”

“Why would you say that?”

MacCready paused for a second to find the right words. Talking about what happened to her was painful. Tears started to well into his eyes again.

“She was forced into prostitution. She… did things. Those girls we brought to Nate were the other victims. Danse, she is filled with fucking diseases that we’ve never heard before, infections, anything she contracted from other men had been passed to me…”

He looked up, then back to the synth.

“But I wouldn’t trade any of this. I gave her a family that she lost. She gave me family that I lost.”

The two men met eye contact.

"We've been trying to have a kid of our own. We can't."

Another pause went into play.

"And this is something we've been wanting for awhile now. We know we can't, but we just try to hold onto the possibility. That's why she would tell you what I did."

Danse got up from his seat. He crossed his arms, before looking up. MacCready finally sat up for the first time he was there. The synth placed his hand on the mercenary’s shoulder.

“You know, we may have never gotten along, but I understand you now. I respect you.”

The shorter, scrawny mercenary began to shake the synth’s free hand.

“Because you have family to look forward to.”

* * *

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

MacCready was startled when he noticed his wife opening her eyes. He was almost falling asleep, as she was awakening. Just then, he knew exactly what had to be done. A whimper came from her lips. She started to sob uncontrollably. Her whimpers got louder and louder.

“It hurts… it hurts!”

Quinn kept repeating it. She was in agonizing pain. Her voice was cracked, high pitched, and shaky. MacCready came up to her, before getting on his knees to be on her level. He kept trying to shush her, although he knew deep down he wasn’t going to do as such.

“I know… I know…”

He began to sob with his hurting wife. The mercenary reached into his pocket, before pulling out a stimpack.

“The doc told me that it won’t fix it, but it’ll numb the pain.”

He then attached the Stimpack to the IV. After activating it, the needle decompressed, sending the fluid into her system. Although the stimpack made it to help ease her pain, Quinn fell back asleep.

MacCready bent forward, before caressing her hair. With a sniff to bring his sinuses back up, he pressed his forehead against her cheek. Moving his face upwards, he planted a kiss to hers. His tears drained down her face into the pillow. His nose buried into her hair, which flowed from the bandages on the right side of her head.

He couldn’t imagine the horrendous pain that she was in.

* * *

 

“I don’t think you should get rid of the baby.”

“Why not?”

Julia wasn’t happy with the news. She definitely wasn’t happy with Danse’s plead.

“That stuff is undeniably dangerous in the Wasteland. Not many women survive.”

The young woman looked down. She buried her face into her hands. She then looked back to him, planting both hands onto the couch she sat on.

“How am I going to raise this kid?”

“I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’ll help me? Have you even seen a baby before?”

“In pictures,” replied Danse. He took a seat next to his daughter on the couch. He looked down to her abdomen.

“As long as he or she only knows that I’m their grandfather.”

Julia wasn’t so sure about the idea. Life was going to change drastically. With Danse trying to pull out the pipe and slippers, she didn’t seem too fond about the synth handling a newborn.

“Just, trust me. We have other people who can help. They know what to do if we don’t.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. She wanted to trust Danse. She truly wanted to. She was worried. She was frightened.

“I’m just scared shitless about this…”

“I know. And that’s why I’m here to help you.”

Julia looked into the synth’s eyes. Everything seemed too sudden to her. She had no idea how it happened. She had no idea what to do from then on out. She felt like the world was collapsing on her.

“Okay,” she said.

She wasn’t truly okay. However, she backed out only because Danse wasn’t happy with the idea.

He pulled her into a hug. She wanted to stay in it forever. Never had Julia imagined she would have to depend on her “father” to help her raise her own kid.

* * *

 

Quinn slowly opened her eyes. She was still numb to the pain she had felt earlier. She didn’t even remember waking up.

She slowly sat up before MacCready quickly got from his seat to carefully prop her up. She had no idea what was happening.

“Robbie, I can sit up,” she barked.

“You can’t be hitting your head.”

“I didn’t plan on hitting my head.”

He was glad to know she remembered him. In addition, he was glad that she was herself. Next to the chair he sat in was Duncan. The boy was definitely relieved to see that his step-mother had woken up.

“How are you feeling, Mom?” asked the kid.

She gave a pause. She seemed perplexed.

“I’m… fine. You both look like I’m a ghost or something.”

“You had a blunt hit to the head…” replied MacCready.

“The injury is… permanent.”

The ginger couldn’t grasp the last statement. She muttered a “what” through her lips, as she inched forward to her husband.

“They had to pull you back in and reconstruct the rest of your skull. They had to let the swelling go down and the hemorrhaging stopped, but the damage was too severe to really… well… get you back to a hundred percent.”

“The doctor said that an instant hit in the head can kill you, and you’re prone to seizures,” added Duncan.

Quinn pulled her hand up to her lips, before rubbing onto them. She didn’t remember being hit in the head. She didn’t remember being in pain. She hadn’t even noticed that her head was bandaged up and stitched.

“Mom, Dad and I were talking and…” he took a short pause.

“We think it’s best that the two of you hang your hats on the mercenary business.”

Quinn was even more surprised of that statement.

“… What?”

“Look, Karlie, what we do has always been dangerous, but after this, I don’t think I could handle it anymore. And I don’t want you out there with what happened.”

She looked down, and then sighed.

“What about the caps?”

“We came up with a better idea.”

MacCready leaned in forward. His chair was just two radial legs away from touching her bed. He grabbed her shoulder and hand, before looking her straight in the eyes.

“Remember Neil?”

“The guy from Amber?”

“Yeah. Remember how he had horses?”

She had an idea on where he was coming from. She gave a look to Duncan, then back into her husband’s eyes.

“I already sent a letter to him. I asked him if we could buy some. I think if we raise and breed and… sell them, we might bring a main form of transportation back to the Wasteland.”

“Oh, so you’re planning on becoming a horse rancher just to show off your Western blood, right?”

When Quinn said “Western blood,” she quoted with her fingers sarcastically.

He paused.

“I’m not even thinking about myself here.”

She looked to her step-son. He confirmed with a nod. She had never seen her husband become so serious. With that in mind, she paid close attention to what he had to say.

“It’s a chance for us to be better people… like the promise I made to Duncan. For once I would actually be following through. For you, you’ll be around horses like you’ve dreamed of. You always told me that you loved them.”

He was right. Quinn always mentioned horses. She always told him how she wanted to be a horse rancher in Colorado. Unfortunately, they had already been to Denver, and her impression on the city was not a pretty one.

They loved Boston. They loved the weather. They loved the improvements made. Perhaps MacCready was right. It was time to stop being Mercenaries, and time to actually be people. It was time to stop being tough and gruff wastelanders and actually make an honest living.

The only problem was that the mercenary life was all that Quinn knew. It was the life that she grew used to. The sudden change was a little overwhelming.

She sighed, before grabbing his hand.

“I guess we’re gonna be horse ranchers then.”

Her voice was harsh, but not sarcastic.

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

The rescued troops were cared for during the recovery of the two ginger women. During their recoveries, Boone and Eudinae broke out the rumor about the President. An instant election was held. After the polls were counted, President Wehnkner had suddenly returned, badly beaten.

He managed to sneak through securities and reach his office. He sat down in his chair. Shakily, he pulled out a Sherry, before pouring it into a clean glass he hid into his desk. Boone and Eudinae suddenly caught on to his return, entering his office, guns up.

“After all this shit we’d of course expect you to suddenly return.”

The President looked up to the two.

“We caught onto your conspiracies. You got a Minutemen Representative killed. We rescued all the troops you’ve sold. I’m sure the General isn’t going to be happy over this.”

“Like he’ll even care.”

The two looked to each other, before Eudinae calmly answered,

“That was his quartermaster and most-trusted Minuteman.”

He continued to drink his sherry. Boone held up the official document of impeachment.

“This office isn’t yours, Wanker.”

“The hell it isn’t!”

The President threw the bottle across the room.

“No, it isn’t.” His tone remained the same.

“I’m your fucking boss, Boone-“

“Not anymore.”

He held up the polls.

“This office is mine. If you plan to live, I highly suggest you move away from the chair.”

Wehnkner didn’t comply. Angered, he reached towards his pocket. Eudinae shot him in the shoulder. The former president fell to his knees, tending to the wound. Boone calmly walked up, before bending down to the former president’s level.

“The NCR holds elections whenever they’re not fond of their president. After learning that you’ve sold all your female troops to the Legion, your re-election levels weren’t up to par with mine. In addition, you have a lot of questions to answer to all the people you’ve betrayed, including as to how you managed to come back here alive.”

A few NCR troops burst through the doors of the office, before collecting Wehnkner. Boone looked to Eudinae, before grabbing the frame of Wehnkner’s portrait. He pulled the painting out. Eudinae grabbed it from falling to the ground, before pulling out a red spray can from her pack. She crossed the eyes out. Meanwhile, Boone placed the document confirming his new status of President of the New California Republic, before hanging it back up where Wehnkner’s painting once stood.

* * *

 

Out of all the people who were taken from the Cryo Facility, only very few survived. It was extremely difficult to get used to the new life they had woken up in. On the bright side, it wasn’t like they weren’t prepared, as they had survived much worse.

The Robobrain came up to his friend, well, ally. They weren’t acquaintanced upon his understanding, but as for the young man…

“Are you coming to Boston with me?”

He couldn’t see the expression that the Robobrain had, but he had pictured it.

“From what I heard, I could be put in some synthetic body. Why the hell not?”

The young man smiled. It was exciting to travel the country with the rest of the remaining Minutemen. Under the circumstances, however, he wasn’t very happy about the outcome of the fight they had.

The young man pulled out the summary that Eudinae typed up for him. He read it over again.

“Mr. E,

I know, y’all are just as confused about all this as we are, but here’s the information I’ve winded up from looking through all that data and from what the scribes had pulled from the facility:

From the looks of it, your buddy Nick ended up being one of the first Robobrains because of his criminal history. His success had Robco, the company that made all them fancy Mr. Handy’s, produce more. They began to experiment with all kind of folks out there.

The whole sickness you and your buddies had been through around your time was actually the first strain of the Forced Evolutionary Virus. Basically, scientists believed that they could mutate us into the ‘Perfect Human,’ but you know, you might want to see a Super Mutant. I’m sure you’ll see the disaster there.

That governmental facility that supposedly went with the Military on this ended up scrapping their name. They merged with the Government. Some of their scientists and entrepreneurs went off to make Vault-Tec, so their experiments weren’t too far off from each other.

Basically, that sickness that was airborne in your time, the one that y’all have, we have it too. In fact, every one of us has it. Apparently, it has a better response to radiation than it would if no one had it, albeit everyone’s body handles the radiation differently. Some of us turn into rotted ghouls that look like raisins. You’ve seen some of our Ghoul Troops ‘round here. As for others, yeah, they die.

This new life will be different for you, I’m sure. But I know that y’all will be fine. From what I hear with the Commonwealth, they seem to be bringing it back to prewar as much as possible, considering The General of the Minutemen was cryogenically frozen like you were. Hell, he’s ancient, but goddamn, you’re fucking ancient. You’ll pull through this extremely well, and I know it.”

* * *

 

Danse made sure to do his research on pregnant women before leaving. Apparently, he had pulled out numerous amounts of prewar snacks, thinking she would be having a crave on the way home. Joining the ride back was Preston. The MacCready family stayed behind to ensure Quinn’s recovery was enough for them to travel back to Boston.

Nick decided to follow MacCready’s requests of traveling to a settlement called “Amber.” With the map strained into his mind, Nick set foot. The road back to the East Coast was a long one, but due to his make, Nick was able to make it to Amber within weeks. By that time, Quinn had recovered. Upon entering the gates, guns were raised to the synth.

“I’m here on behalf of an interesting Robert Joseph MacCready.”

“MacCready? Everyone, put your weapons down!”

The young man who called the command rushed to the detective. He gently rushed Valentine through the gates and out of trouble.

“We haven’t heard that name in years! I received a small letter from him a day ago asking for horses. He didn’t go into details.”

“First off, what is your name, Sir?”

“Neil.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Neil.”

Nick shook hands with the leader.

“Always glad to see a new face.”

The young man dragged the synth to a stable just West of the settlement. Upon entrance, he turned to the detective.

“MacCready and Quinn helped us make this place better. They saved my wife and children.”

“Sometimes I hear different about those two.”

“Well you hear wrong.”

The young man began to open the gate. He was donned in muddy boots… or was that…

“Look, Neil, did MacCready tell you what happened to Quinn?”

The man paused. He looked up.

“Her brain was smashed in. She’s never going to be the same again.”

Neil looked down.

“My prayers and thoughts go out to them.”

Neil began to introduce the horses. The terms were way out of Valentine's head.

“I decided to give the two my upcoming sires. They need a specific diet, so if you have any pen and paper, best to write it down.”

Unfortunately, due to the radiation, boils had formed onto the magnificent creatures. However, most were healthy and prepped to be delivered.

“I also sent some of my caravans to watch them. They’ll meet us here before you take off.”

Among the group were two young brown foals, male and female, a black sire, a multicolored dame, and four fresh grey horses. None had been bred before, and the directions as to how had Nick confused off his rocker.

* * *

* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2296**

* * *

 

Boone had never left the Mojave. He wasn’t sure it was the best idea, although motivating troops said otherwise. He wasn’t a talking man; Eudinae was usually the one to do the talking for him.

In fact, the idea of her pupil had rumors of their relationship going around. He never saw her any less than him. In fact, she had the sharp tongue and a gun to confirm her words. He respected that. The friendship they had was definitely something they would go on with for the rest of their lives, however, their feelings weren’t anymore than that.

Eudinae felt the same way. In fact, she never had any sort of romantic feeling towards anyone. Just the fact that Boone shared her talents in exception to her charisma, didn’t constitute that they were in anyway romantic.

Their friendship was more of a… platonic marriage.

Eudinae packed her gear before meeting Boone at the APC truck. They were to go back with the MacCready family. With enough softness to be considered a mental ward, Quinn remained strapped against cushion in case the ride got too bumpy. It was so comfortable that MacCeady snuggled up to his wife and fell asleep right before they left. With the Commonwealth ahead of them, Boone and Eudinae remained nervous. Yes, the charismatic sharpshooter was nervous.

* * *

 

Upon reaching home, the sight was not anything any of them expected to come back to. Puddles of water kept the ground sticky and squishy. The homes that were destroyed by the bombs were wiped out. The homes that were newly built were damaged… the mercenaries’ home was wiped clean off the map.

MacCready attempted to keep Quinn calm, knowing she was overwhelmed. Duncan took off to find a trader to help the ordeal. The streets remained somewhat flooded, but only about heel high. Upon seeing Nate’s old prewar home…

It was gone.

There was nothing left of it.

Speaking of the General of the Minutemen, he greeted them in the most humble way possible.

“Preston explained everything to me. Where is the president?”

“We captured him and he’s awaiting much worse,” replied Eudinae.

“Boone here is our new President of the NCR.”

Nate calmly shook the sharpshooter’s hand. Boone wasn’t too fond of the contact.

“What happened here?” asked MacCready, who was extremely devastated.

The General rubbed his eyes. In the horizon was a truck full of supplies and other Minutemen attempting to tend to the survivors.

“About two weeks ago we had a Hurricane. The water hasn’t leveled yet. We’re waiting for it to go down that way we can rebuild.”

“Seems like the only thing that stood were the concrete walls.” The group looked on to the gates that surrounded Sanctuary.

“We should have built drain pipes too.”

The temperature was pretty low, and had the sharpshooters almost begging for jackets. It was the coldest that MacCready had ever felt. Quinn was nice and warm in her blanket, to which she offered to share with her husband.

“When the soil sucks the water up, Sturges is going to put in some drainage pipes to keep the water from destroying anymore than it has. We’re going to start rebuilding homes.”

Quinn wanted to ask Nate the most important question she had on her mind.

“Where are Bailey and Lucy?”

He looked straight at her with solemn eyes. She caught the news.

“We lost Dogmeat, too. His last litter were the only ones who survived.”

“Anyone else?”

“We don’t know. We were able to rescue just about everyone who lives here.”

Quinn took off walking towards what was left of their home. It was almost wiped clean. She gripped her blanket tight as her heart dropped lower. Her husband grabbed her from behind, pressing his weight onto her for comfort.

Through the Southern gates entered Valentine, along with a few caravans. There were numerous semi crates, to which, were cut through to allow air for the horses. He opened the backs, before the caravans allowed the foals out first.

“What is this?” Asked Nate, as he approached the commotion.

Quinn and MacCready both ran to Nick, their feet causing a splash within each step. The detective was more than kind to the duo.

“We brought horses back,” replied MacCready.

“We decided to give up on the mercenary business after Quinn got hit in the head. We just need some land. Even if we share with any Brahmin, that’s good enough.”

Nate looked over to Nick, who had a smile on his face.

“It’s an honest living, General.”

The synth then handed the duo the directions on how to breed the horses.

“I heard about the hurricane, by the way. Ellie said that Diamond City was wiped off the map.”

“A lot of places here were.”

Nick nodded. He looked a bit frustrated.

“Also, Nate, before I go, make sure you pay attention to the two sharpshooters behind you. Ronnie would want you to be on their good side.”

* * *

 

A few months in, the world finally got back to normal. Diamond City was still in the process of reconstruction. With the presence of Minutemen architects, the city was built to be stronger and cleaner than it was before.

As for Sanctuary, the new homes were built with gutters. Sturges had a job of forming drainage pipes to allow the water to flow down the slope into the river. Quinn and MacCready got the land they needed, and after they built the house, along came the stable.

Duncan came home one day with a bag of mutkush for his Step-Mom. She depended on it for her migraines that came with the injury. On some days, she collected Razorgrain supplied by the Longs, to which they used to feed the horses. The first sire ready to breed was a grey one, as the dame was the painted horse. Duncan was instantly disgusted by the long erections he had seen upon bringing food home from the trades, to which, MacCready would make fun of him for.

In the meantime, Julia began to grow. It couldn’t be specified which gender the baby was. Danse made her as comfortable as possible. On some days, Piper would bring over items to help Julia with the pregnancy. Sometimes the two would take walks and discuss names for the baby.

“Jillian or Julian.”

“Why so close to your name?”

“I don’t know… I just kind of like them.”

In the meantime, the position of Quartermaster was given to one of the girls who had been in the Brothel. A devout Minuteman, Miso took no gruff. While she had a sweet voice, even the Raiders feared her.

Boone and Eudinae officially established alliance with the Minutemen. Nate asked for President Wehnkner to be handed to them for trial, in connections to the death of his most trusted ally. The two returned to the Strip to establish new grounds and to maintain Minutemen assistance.

A few months after the Dame got pregnant, MacCready tended to her as she seemed sick. He read the directions that Neil gave. After letting the dame rest, he began to clean the hooves off one of the grey horses.

“Haven’t seen you in awhile!”

The rancher dropped his screwdriver as he heard the high-pitched voice of the reporter.

“God dammit, Piper!”

“Usually you’re vigilant. Sorry to scare you.”

Piper refused to jump through the gate. Out in the distance, Duncan was collecting manure to deliver to the Longs as fertilizer.

“Looks like the horse idea is working, right?”

“Excluding the fact that Splat is sick, probably not.”

“Splat? You named the horse Splat?” Piper chuckled as she spat out her question.

He shrugged.

“What would expect her name to be?”

“Anything other than Splat!”

“She’s painted. She’s got paint splatter on her body.”

The reporter continued to laugh. The rancher was becoming irritated.

“What do you want, Piper?”

She collected herself. The woman then leaned onto the fencing, just as the rancher did.

“I have an idea for you.”

“What kind of idea?”

“I talked to some lady who apparently knows you. We had a discussion, and well, we decided that we want to put your life’s story to print.”

He backed away. Shaking his head, MacCready grabbed a rake, before moving the fresh manure to Duncan.

“A biography?”

“Yes, I biography.”

He scoffed. He began to wipe his forehead as the sweat trickled down into the horse poop.

“My life’s not interesting enough.”

Piper got up on one of the railings of the fence.

“Of course it is! Your name is everywhere, MacCready! People in the South have talked about you! Everyone in the Capital Wasteland knows your name! You were in the Mojave Wasteland for Pete’s sake!”

“Like I said,” he said with a pause, following a grunt as he moved the smelly droppings,

“My life isn’t interesting.”

“Moira begs to differ. I do too.”

“Tell Moira to worry about herself. Just because James agreed to a biography doesn’t mean I will.”

“That’s another thing!” Piper jumped off the rail.

“You know multiple Vault Dwellers! You’re married to one!”  
“And she doesn’t like to be referred to as a Vault Dweller!”

“My point is, your story is going to be in the hands of many hopeless wastelanders! They’re going to read something and have something new to live for.”

He proceeded to make his way back to Splat. MacCready felt her stomach.

“And you’ll be making a bunch of caps!”

Caps.

Caps weren’t bad with the MacCready household, but they were slowly pissing away their retirement. With no work and with horses being a lot of time, debts began to increase with the Longs. Their budgeting was stressful.

“I know you can’t turn an offer down if it involves caps.”

MacCready approached Piper with a smug grin on his face.

“Fine. I get half royalty.”

Piper didn’t flinch. She didn’t blink. She looked him straight in the eyes.

“Deal.”

* * *

* * *

 


End file.
